Ok, so what kind of Munich-residing expat would I be if I failed to mention Carnival, or as it’s called here in southern Germany, Fasching.
I know I’m a little late writing about this. But I’ve been busy with important hausfrau missions such as trying to acquire a laundry hamper, which as it turns out is no easy task. Twice we’ve ordered one only to be told later our selection was unavailable. Indefinitely. So the search for the perfect dark brown, preferably square, somewhat cat-scratch proof hamper (with a lid) continues. And in the meantime, the ever growing pile of laundry covering the floor makes it looks like it’s snowing clothes in our apartment.
But back to Fasching…
According to Wikipedia, and local bakeries selling krapfen, Fasching official begins mid-November, November 11 at 11:11 a.m. to be exact. And Ash Wednesday marks its end, right before Lent. But you don’t have to be Catholic to enjoy the festivities.
Fasching in Munich is filled with colorful costumes, parades, parties and of course the aforementioned, krapfen. Since I love food, I’ll start with those.
|What gets me through the winter and keeps me out of a swimsuit|
For Germans, or lovers of German food, they’re a lot like the well-known berliners (the pastry, not the people…that would just be gross). And for Americans, they’re similar to a filled donut…but better, much better. And unlike Berliners, which are typically either plain or filled with jam, krapfen come in many jam- and cream-filled varieties, my favorites being eierlikör (egg liquor), tiramisu and schwarzwälder (black forest).
And you’ve got to love any celebration that support people dressing like this:
|Mozart meets...v-neck hippie man|
Thomas and I went to a Fasching’s costume party with a few of his friends last weekend. It was kind of like a Halloween party back in the States, only without girls competing for the “least dressed” title in which competitors often win free drinks from sleazy guys and (in places like Madison, Wis.) second-degree frostbite. A few photos:
|Lots of dancing...|
|Lots of music...|
|And lots of photobombs from my husband in disguise.|
Unfortunately, we didn’t make it to any parades this year as that would have required us to get up early and cut into our valuable furniture assembly and installation time. But there’s always next year.
Although, next year’s Fasching may be spent here. Fingers crossed – or in German style, daumen drücken (thumbs pressed). On second thought, I think I’ll stick with fingers crossed. Superstition infidelity might be bad luck…